


Otherworld

by Liliriu



Category: Boy's Next Door (Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:47:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26871649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liliriu/pseuds/Liliriu
Summary: “My point is, you have a beautiful mind. I can’t afford to lose it. I can’t live without your mind.”Warnings: ...definitely nothing worse than in the manga.
Relationships: Adrian Clay/Lawrence Hill





	Otherworld

I fuck him. He’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, easy. Long limbs. Slim waist. White skin, porcelain skin, marble skin. Heart shaped face. Thin lips, thin nose, huge eyes. Dark green, enchanted woods. Dark hair, always messy, shoulder length. A tattoo on his chest, a stain on an otherwise perfect chest. The one flaw which makes him perfect.

He is fourteen, he should had been ugly. I was ugly at fourteen, all my friends were ugly at fourteen. Perhaps he’ll still become ugly. Gain weight, complexion will turn greasy, grow hair over his limbs, limbs and head will grow in disproportionate ways. If he lives enough. I shudder. He’s away from them. He’s safe.

Will I still want him around, if he gets ugly? That’s an irrelevant question, a categorical mistake. I don’t think I can live without him around. How would I live? Kill again. Perhaps kill just once.

He attempts to cook, but it is not good. I claim it is, but he does not buy it. He shrugs. He says, “I need more practice.” We order pizza, we eat in front the T.V.

We watch T.V. Some silly quiz show. He’s not watching. He’s smeared on me. Playing with my hair, kissing my neck, gently poking my skin with his long nails.

He’s applied transparent polish on his nails. Now their whole length shines, looks like crystal when hit by the sun. My heart is bursting with joy.

I decide that he must read. I get him books. Some Dickens, some Salinger, some Austen. He opens the books, he yawns, he closes the books. He is otherworldly, why would he read about this world? He knows enough. I get him some Carroll, some Tolkien, some Bradbury. Books about other worlds. Those he agrees to read.

He fucks me. I don’t feel much, since he’s not big, he’s just fourteen. I feel his pleasure, though, the violent pounding of his little heart. I feel his pleasure like it was mine. We melt together in hazy bliss.

Afterwards, we just lie down. I do not know for how much time. He’s gazing straight into my eyes.

“Your blue tissue has changed,” he states, as if it were the most normal thing in the world, “what are you thinking about?”

“What have you just said?”

“I asked, what are you thinking about?”

“No, before.”

“I don’t remember. Nothing.”

“You said some words.”

“Just stupid words, why do you insist on that?”

“You said: your blue tissue has changed.”

He rolls his eyes, “why insist if you already knew?”

“This is poetry, those beautiful words.”

“No it is not, I always talk like that.”

“Yes, you are a poet.”

He laughs, “No I’m not, I am a whore.” He caresses my cock, as if to prove it. “I’m not even smart,” he adds.

“It has nothing to do with whether you’re smart or not, you are a poet.”

“So… What is your point?”

“My point is, you have a beautiful mind. I can’t afford to lose it. I can’t live without your mind.”

“So what are you gonna do?”

“Wait a moment.”

I get up. I walk out of the room. I come back with a full kettle and a medicine kit.

I say nothing. I pour boiling water over his ugly tattoo.

He shrinks. He curses me, cries in pain, attempts to get away.

I grab him firmly by his hand. I put some ointment over the burn. I bandage it. He’s still crying, shaking.

“I had no choice,” I say. "We’ll laser it once we’re away. Enough away. It has to be hidden for now."

He nods his head. He understands. Still mad at me, I can tell.

I raise his chin. I look at him. “Always so beautiful,” I say.

He frowns.

“Come,” I say.

I take him to the bathroom, bend his head over the sink. I brought a pair of scissors. I cut his beautiful hair. I use a razor to fix the remains.

I raise his head. I look at him. He looks into the mirror. He’s almost ugly, now. I squeeze his hand.

We’re almost ready. We feed Wolfy one last time. I leave a note, instructions for Vicky. I leave her a key.

Take your jacket, I say, and he obeys.

We head to leave. I caress his shaven head.


End file.
